Zarâm Kidhuzu
by Marigold Faucet
Summary: Prompt fic. A small collection of non-linear one-shots centred on Fíli and the season of autumn.
1. Uhmand

**Prompt **_for the_ Feels for Fíli Art and Fic Mini Contest / _#6 Autumn_

_This is un-beta'd._

—

**ZARÂM KIDHUZU  
><strong>Marigold Faucet

**I**  
>uhmand<p>

—

for Sarah

—

"You only had to look at it for a moment, and instantly you could think of dozens of things you'd rather eat. Your boots, for example. Mountains. Raw sheep. Your own foot."  
>—Terry Pratchett, <em>Witches Abroad<em>

—

Fíli is certain of two things in his life.

Firstly, that it is his job—_nay his duty_ as Uncle Thorin says—to protect Kíli from the greater evils of the world. And secondly: that Dwalin's bread is truly the greatest evil in all of Middle Earth.

Fíli doesn't understand why Dwalin feels he needs to bake so much bread, especially during the autumn months. He heard Thorin and Balin talking about it once, about how it was because Dwalin missed his 'amad and that Lomil Zatamaradu makes him miss her more. Fíli thinks he can understand that, he misses his Da a lot sometimes but he doesn't make people eat horrible bread because of it. He asks for a hug instead.

(A hug is better than bread.)

They've been lucky, Kíli more so than most, the last few years, but, as Fíli will grow to learn, luck does not hold fast to the Line of Durin. Kíli's never had Dwalin's bread before, but he's just started learning his letters and lacks self-preservation, which means Fíli has to work extra hard to look out for Kíli when Dwalin starts baking.

Thorin is supposed to pick them up from their tutoring session with Balin, but they find Dwalin waiting for them outside the door. _Thorin is trapped at the forge_, Dwalin explains, _I'm to look after you_. Kíli is ecstatic about it, but Fíli knows the look on Dwalin's face, the sad grumpy one he gets from time to time, means there's going to be bread and silently prays to Mahal that Dwalin won't be staying for dinner.

His prayers go unanswered.

Fíli plays with Kíli in their room, wooden soldiers scattered about the floor. Kíli had wanted to help Dwalin bake some bread, but Fíli keeps him from the kitchen with the promise of letting him play as Thorin in their game. He listens to Dwalin bang about the kitchen and hopes Thorin comes home soon, but Thorin doesn't and the longer time goes on the more worried and desperate Fíli starts to feel.

So Fíli does the only reasonable thing left to him, he takes Kíli and hides them both in Thorin's wardrobe.

It's dark in the wardrobe, but neither seems to mind. Fíli passes the time by retelling the histories Balin had been teaching him earlier that morning, and Fíli thinks Balin would be appalled to hear him butcher them so. Kíli is an attentive listener, when he isn't giggling at some of Dwalin's more creative curse words, asking questions that range from surprisingly insightful to wildly ridiculous. It's fun, Fíli finds, even with the dire fate that awaits them outside the wardrobe.

But then Kíli asks about Lomil Zatamaradu and Fíli's throat closes up.

It is not that Kíli is ignorant of its meaning and significance, but he is still too young to make it through the entire festival without succumbing to sleep. Fíli is too and it never seemed important before, the only family for him to mourn no more familiar to him than a character from a fairy tale. Yet, ever since Jóli's passing, Fíli makes a special effort to stay awake as long as he can for the lighting of the adùruth arrâs to signal the return of the hunting party (the night's kill held proudly aloft).

"Why are there fires?" Kíli asks, for he has never seen the fires. Always asleep, sparse meal in his belly, before Thorin leaves and never awake when he returns, the fires nothing more than embers when dawn arrives.

"To honour those that we have lost and those we still have," Fíli explains. It is the same reason for the hunt, the meat and hide given to those less fortunate than most; a show to Mahal that the living a cherished and deceased remembered.

It saddens him to think of his 'adad as only a memory, but he does not dwell on it. It's only a matter of time before Dwalin will search them out and sure enough the kitchen clatter halts abruptly, Fíli suddenly painfully aware of the heavy footsteps coming down the hall.

Fíli tightens his hold on Kíli, clamping his hand tightly over Kíli's mouth, as the door to Thorin's room swings open. He will fight body and beard to keep Kíli away from that bread. It's his job after all, to keep Kíli safe.

The door to the wardrobe opens, the light momentarily blinding Fíli as he stares up at the large form before them. For a panicked moment Fíli thinks it is Dwalin, but then his eyes adjust and Kíli squirms free, holding his arms up to a bewildered Thorin who stands staring down at them.

"Fíli?" Thorin blinks. "What are you and Kíli doing in my wardrobe?"

"We're hiding," Fíli whispers, casting a furtive glance towards the door.

"From what?" Thorin asks, following his gaze.

"Mister Dwalin!" cheers Kíli brightly, attempting to free his small arms from the overwhelming length of Thorin's coat sleeves.

"And _why_ are you hiding from Mister Dwalin?" Thorin chuckles, pulling both Fíli and Kíli from the wardrobe and up into his arms.

"He's making bread, Uncle!" Fíli cries, lip trembling. He doesn't want to cry, biting his lip as his heart jumps from relief to fear in a few unsteady beats. He's truly afraid, a rather unfitting quality for an heir of Durin, but he still remembers the first time he had eaten Dwalin's bread. It felt as if he were trying to eat a rock, though it didn't taste as nice (he knows the difference well enough to be sure) and afterwards he had found his boots to a rather appetising prospect if _that_ bread was still waiting for him at the table. It was most unpleasant and for a time afterwards, Fíli was positive Dwalin must hate him. He used to hide behind Dís' skirts whenever he would visit just in case he had anymore bread hidden behind his back.

(That was until Dwalin had thrust several toy soldiers into Fíli's quivering arms and all was forgiven between them.)

"Ah," Thorin nods, face caught between bemusement and serious concern. "I see."

"I'm supposed to keep Kíli safe from all the bad things," Fíli mutters, burying his face in Thorin's shoulder.

"You did the right thing Fíli," Thorin says, the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betraying his amusement. "I'm very proud of you."

Fíli just buries his face further into Thorin's shoulder, face turning a light shade of red. "Promise we won't have to eat any?" he mumbles.

"I promise," Thorin smiles. "It is, after all, my job to keep _both_ of you safe." he says, placing them both on his bed with a kiss on the forehead each. "Now, wait here."

Thorin comes back for them not ten minutes later, Dwalin muttering darkly behind him. Kíli practically bounces off the bed, throwing himself at Dwalin who deftly catches him before handing him off to Thorin. Fíli just stares, drawing his knees up to his chest and ducking his head slightly so that he doesn't have to meet Dwalin's gaze. He didn't think Thorin would tell _him_.

Dwalin sits on the bed, the bed dipping beneath his weight. Fíli lets out an indignant squawk, the shift in the bed causing him to lose his balance and tumble into a graceless heap on Dwalin's lap. Fíli stares up at Dwalin, giving him a fierce glare (or as fierce as one can look while pouting), but Dwalin only grins back at him.

"You don't have to eat it if you don't want to," he says, poking Fíli in the belly. Fíli frowns, face scrunching up as he tries not to smile. He's supposed to be angry and betrayed, but he's too relieved to truly feel anything but happy.

Yet, even though he's smiling, Dwalin still looks sad.

"Would you like a hug?" Fíli asks, sitting up. Dwalin startles, eyes wide with surprise, and Fíli can tell he's about to refuse. That cannot be allowed. "Too bad!" he beams, tackling Dwalin with all the effectiveness of a light breeze against the mountainside. It takes a moment, maybe two, but eventually Dwalin returns his hug with an exasperated huff and a lighter heart.

A hug is definitely better than bread.

—

**Khuzdul:**

'**adad **/ father

**adùruth arrâs** / mourning fires

'**amad **/ mother

**lomil zatamaradu** / night of the kill

**uhmand** / greatest bread

**zarâm kidhuzu **/ trees of gold


	2. Amagur

**Prompt **_for the_ Feels for Fíli Art and Fic Mini Contest / _#6 Autumn_

_This is un-beta'd._

—

**ZARÂM KIDHUZU**  
>Marigold Faucet<p>

**II**  
>amagur<p>

—

for Morgane

—

"The trouble is you can shut your eyes, but you can't shut your mind."  
>—Terry Pratchett, <em>Wintersmith<em>

—

When Fíli starts to learn about bears, he can't help but try to frighten Kíli.

As plans go, it is a sound one. Kíli is easily fooled, wild in imagination, and while it may seem cruel to some, Fíli has yet to claim his revenge for the tomatoes in his boots or the pond scum in his bed. To retaliate physically would do nothing more than continue this battle between them, so Fíli must result to alternative means of warfare.

It is a good plan.

Fíli waits until they have both been put to bed, neither quite ready for sleep. He asks if Kíli wants to hear about his lessons, already anticipating the answer to be an enthusiastic _yes_. Fíli smiles when Kíli twists beneath the blankets, turning to lie on his stomach across his bed as he listens to Fíli tell him all about bears with wide eyes.

"Bears are huge beasts that sleep all through winter," Fíli says, keeping his voice low. "It's called _hibernation_." he explains (careful in his pronunciation of the word, having gotten it wrong the first three times he attempted to say it on his own). "So they have to eat lots of food in autumn."

"Like Mister Dwalin does?" Kíli asks.

"Mister Dwalin isn't a bear, thurkbund," Fíli sighs, rolling his eyes.

"But he's big and eats a lot," exclaims Kíli. "And Ma says I shouldn't poke him when he's sleeping." he adds. "Is it because he hib-bernates too?"

"No," Fíli laughs. "If he did, he'd always miss your ênâdghizul." he says, smiling at the horrified look on Kíli's face. "Besides, bears are big scary monsters who gobble up dwarflings in the night. Mister Dwalin doesn't eat dwarflings."

"What do they look like?" Kíli gulps.

"They're very big and very, very hairy," Fíli whispers, throwing his arms out wide. "They've got terrible claws." he continues, Kíli burrowing further into his blankets. "And a terrible roar!"

"Are there bears in the mountain?" Kíli asks, looking frightened.

"No," Fíli says, smiling wider. "Uncle keeps them away by glaring at them with his grumpiest face."

Kíli nods sleepily, rolling onto his back with a sigh of relief. "Good." he says. "I don't want to be eaten."

"Although," Fíli says, throwing himself back onto his pillows. "Uncle isn't here right now." he sing songs, turning to blow the candle out. "Sleep well, Kíli."

He listens to Kíli toss and turn, silently pleased with himself as Kíli struggles to find a comfortable position in his silent worry. Fíli knows Dís will kill him in the morning if Kíli goes to her in the night with nightmares about bears, but it feels a small price to pay—especially since Dís seems intent on encouraging Kíli (and Fíli) to continue pulling pranks on one another.

Fíli doesn't remember falling asleep, time passing in hazed flickers that wake him with a pounding heart. He doesn't know what wakes him, everything dark and silent as his eyes fail to adjust. He's about to fall back asleep when it starts, a rumbling growl that drifts through the home and has Fíli leaping from his bed.

_There's a bear in the house_, Fíli thinks. He tries to reason with himself, but his mind is too addled by half-remembered nightmares about great, hulking beasts with terrible claws and a terrible roar, to do anything other than panic.

(He was _lying_, there is no bear because it was a _lie_.)

(But he ought to check, he reasons. To be sure.)

Fíli grabs his practice sword, the carefully carved wood feeling cold against his clammy palm, taking a moment to gather his courage and venture outside the bedroom door. He creeps quietly down the hall, the growl getting louder and louder the closer he gets. He nearly turns back twice, but each time he reminds himself that Thorin would not falter and continues on.

He reaches the main hall of their home, the fire burning low in the hearth as the shadows stretch menacingly towards where Fíli stands in the hallway. There's a large shape on the couch, huge and hairy, and Fíli can only imagine the terrible claws and terrible roar.

It's not a bear. He was lying about the bears. It can't be a bear—

_O Mahal,_ Fíli thinks, the creature on the couch shifting as it lets out a particularly loud growl. _It is a bear_.

Fíli darts back into the hall, practiced instinct taking him directly into Thorin's room. He breathes a sigh of relief to find it occupied, eternally grateful that Thorin is home even if he has failed to keep the bears away. He doesn't even think before clambering into Thorin's bed, burying himself beneath the blankets and crawling forward until he reaches the centre of the bed to where Thorin lay.

He pokes Thorin several times, twice in the face and thrice in the ribs in an effort to rouse him, but Thorin fails to stir. Fíli tries again for several more minutes, tearfully begging Thorin to wake and crying in earnest when he does not. He doesn't dare go to Dís, admittedly too afraid to attempt sneaking past the bear to get to her room. Instead he huddles close against Thorin's side, eyes watching the open door and listening to the growling, keeping watch just in case the bear should wake.

(He does not sleep.)

Fíli is still watching the door when Thorin finally wakes, just before Dawn, with an agonised moan. The sound startles Fíli, surprising Thorin in turn when Fíli hits him in the stomach with his wooden sword. Fíli might have laughed if he weren't so terrified and exhausted.

"You've got to kill the bear, Uncle," Fíli cries, Thorin blinking stupidly at him.

"Bear?" Thorin croaks, running a hand over his face. "Fíli, there are no bears in these halls."

"But there is," Fíli insists, eyes tearing up again. "In front of the fire."

"In front of the—" Thorin starts, throwing back the blankets and stalking out into the hall with a sigh (and if Fíli were more himself, he might think Thorin would rather face a bear than deal with his tears). "Oh." he says, bemused, when he reaches the main hall, Fíli wrapped tightly around one leg. "A_ bear_."

"Go kill it," Fíli demands, but Thorin only raises a chastising eyebrow. "_Please_?"

"As you wish," Thorin acquiesces with a bow, taking Fíli's wooden sword from him.

Fíli watches as Thorin stabs at the bear with the wooden sword, heart pounding in his chest when it lets out a terrible roar and swipes at Thorin with its terrible…_hands_? Oh, but he feels foolish and relieved and upset, because it isn't a bear at all.

It's _Dwalin_.

And suddenly Kíli is running out of their room, blanket dragging behind him as he cries for Dís, and Dís is standing in the doorway to her room yelling about _ungodly hours_ and _interrupted beauty sleep_. It's all so very loud and Fíli too starts to cry because he's _exhausted_ and _embarrassed _and _exhausted_. So he starts babbling, running up to Thorin and latching tightly onto his leg, about everything from his joke on Kíli (who lets out an indignant squawk from where he is now held in Dís' arms) to waking up and finding a _bear_ and then to (bravely) hiding in Thorin's room (_because Thorin keeps bears away with his _face, Kíli supplies).

When he finishes (and apologises profusely to Kíli for being so cruel), Dís sends him back to bed back with the promise that there are _no bears in the mountain_.

"Can I sleep in your bed, Uncle?" Fíli asks, still clutching Thorin's leg.

"You're safe, Fíli," Thorin sighs, placing a comforting hand stop Fíli's head. "You'll find no bears in this mountain, not while I'm here."

"I know," Fíli mumbles. "But, just in case."

Thorin smiles and laughs, "Just in case."

It's not until many years later, when they are on the Quest to reclaim Erebor, that Fíli sees his first bear. It is not a true bear, but Fíli feels as if this creature has walked straight out his nightmares and while he shows no signs of outward fear—if he happens to run just that little bit faster, then no one notices.

Except Kíli.

And Kíli never quite lets him live it down.

—

**Khuzdul:**

**amagur** / bear

**ênâdghizul **/ birthday

**thurkbund** / rock head

**zarâm kidhuzu** / trees of gold


	3. Akhùthuzh Daruk

**Prompt **_for the_ Feels for Fíli Art and Fic Mini Contest / _#6 Autumn_

_This is un-beta'd._

—

**ZARÂM KIDHUZU**  
>Marigold Faucet<p>

**III**  
>akhùthuzh daruk<p>

—

for Stephanie

—

"It's still magic even if you know how it's done."  
>—Terry Pratchett, <em>A Hat Full of Sky<em>

—

It's the first time he's ever left the mountain.

Fíli's heard stories about Dwarves who leave the mountain and are never seen again, sucked up into the great big sky above. Thorin leaves the mountain a lot, often being away longer than he promises and each passing day Fíli worries that maybe he's been taken by the sky too.

"Don't be silly," Dís assures him, lips pressed in a thin line to keep from laughing. "His ego weighs him down enough to keep him safely on his feet."

He knows he worries too much. He's overheard Thorin discussing it with Dís (and Jóli too, when he is home and not deep in some mine) more than once. He doesn't mean to worry, but it's hard not to when the songs of their people are filled with such sorrow and though he is only young he understands more than people think.

(_Too young,_ Dís whispers, when she thinks Fíli is sleeping. _Too young to have such worries, ghivashel._)

It's after Thorin and Dwalin have left, seeking work in the lands toward Bree, that Jóli suggests the trip out of the mountain.

"It's win-win," Jóli says. "Fíli can see there's nothing to be afraid of, while enjoying the company of his favourite parent." he adds with a smirk, drawing Fíli close to him. "And I get to spend the day with my preferred child."

"I get to spend the whole day with Ma?" Fíli asks, eyes lighting up with excitement. He hasn't been able to spend the whole day with Dís since Kíli came along.

"What?" Jóli starts, looking wholly affronted. "No—_me_!" he pouts. "You're going to spend the day with me!"

"Oh," Fíli blinks and then smiles. "Okay."

"Maybe I should just take Kíli with me," Jóli huffs, crossing his arms over his chest just like Fíli at his most haughty. "Kíli?" he asks, looking around only to find that Kíli is too busy searching for Dwalin and Thorin, shouting _Wa_ or _Gump_ into every conceivable hiding place. "My children have been stolen from me."

Fíli fidgets the entire walk to the gate, anxiety swelling his belly, but Jóli holds tight to his hand talking the whole way, filling the silences with easy chatter when Fíli fails to respond. Every now and then Jóli's fingers tighten just a fraction, just when Fíli thinks he might burst and it's enough to ground him though Jóli never once breaks from his tangent to offer any form of verbal comfort.

(And really, that's all the comfort Fíli needs.)

They are out the gate before Fíli realises what is happening, Jóli hoisting him up into his arms and holding him firmly in his arms. Fíli squirms in his hold, trying to escape, but then the sun hits his eyes and for a moment he is blind. He panics, but then the light dims and Fíli finds himself looking up at the sky.

It's so wide and blue and bright, stretching on forever.

"No need for that, mim azaghâl," Jóli soothes, Fíli burying his face into the crook of Jóli's neck. "It's only mingalel, nothing to be afraid of."

It takes a moment or two for Fíli to work up enough courage to look up again, feeling slightly dizzy when he does. He's used to walls and high ceilings, not this great vast openness so entirely filled with light, but it is not so terrible as the others say and—_and_, Fíli thinks, unclenching the fists he had made in the back of Jóli's coat—he does not drift away.

"Okay?" Jóli asks, smiling at Fíli's wonder-filled expression.

"Can I get closer?" Fíli asks, looking back at the sky. He laughs with delight when Jóli lifts him onto his shoulders, stretching his arms as high as he can, almost falling backwards when he leans too far. He wonders if he can touch it, but there is only air.

Jóli starts to walk, the sky seemingly unchanging as they move away from the mountain. _There is a storm coming_, Jóli says, pointing out the dark clouds sitting on the horizon. _And there is a rabbit_, he adds, pointing at an oddly shaped cloud overhead. Fíli laughs, thinking it looks more like one of Kíli's unfortunate stuffed toys—horribly disfigured and crippled.

Fíli is abruptly aware when the sky disappears, replaced by the thin canopy blanketing the forest path. It doesn't quite meet his expectations. He's seen plenty of pictures of trees, in books on botany and geography. Fíli likes them for the pictures, fingers tracing each delicately drawn branch and leaf, admiring the intensely inked green that is rarely found in any gem or stone.

These trees and their leaves are not green at all.

"Are the trees sick?" Fíli asks, looking at all the reds and golds and browns. "They aren't green like they're supposed to be."

"They're getting ready for winter," Jóli explains. "Soon all their leaves will be gone."

"Why?" Fíli asks, resting his atop Jóli's as he admires the passing flora.

"Azrâd," Jóli shrugs, laughing when Fíli almost loses his balance again.

"Is that what stops people from falling into the sky?" Fíli questions, eyes wide as he stares back up flecks of blue peeking through the foliage.

"Of course!" Jóli beams. "What else could it be?"

Fíli asks as many questions as he can think of, tongue tripping over his mind in an attempt to ask them all at once as he tries to discern if all of Middle-Earth's wonders were created with magic. _Not all_, says Jóli when they reach the river, _but that discussion can wait until you're at least one hundred eighty_.

The river is just as wonderful as the sky and the trees, but too cold to swim in as Fíli's finds when he dunks his whole arm (sleeve and all) into the slow-running water. The river is magic too, Fíli thinks picking up few smooth, round pebbles from the riverbank and tucking them away in his pocket. Kíli would like them, he tells Jóli who only nods and grumbles about _bribery_ and _failing to think of it himself_.

The sky darkens, dimming like it has been filtered through the mountain, the dark, rolling clouds swirling overhead. Fíli doesn't understand why Jóli insist they head back home, not until the first drop of rain hits his face. He blinks, stunned, rubbing at the cold, wet spot just beneath his right eye. He looks to Jóli, who just laughs and reiterates his insistence that they leave.

They're half way through the forest, when the rain begins to fall hard and fast. The canopy is not thick enough to protect them from the worst of it, Jóli carrying Fíli on his back as he tries to make haste through the open expanse between the first and Thorin's Halls.

Fíli is soaked through entirely, eyes wide as he shivers against the wet, clinging cold, sighing in relief when they finally pass through the gate and into the mountain.

"Don't tell your 'amad?" Jóli laughs, exhausted and breathless when they're almost home. "She still hasn't forgiven me for dropping you when you were a baby." he sneezes. "I doubt she'd like you getting a cold, you're insufferable when you're sick."

"I'm not insuf-farble," Fíli mutters angrily, sneezing violently. "You're insuf-farble."

"I'm a joy to all who know me," Jóli sniffs, sneezing again.

"Lovely weather?" Dís asks, greeting them at the door.

"Wonderful," Jóli responds dryly, side stepping her and putting Fíli down in the main hall. Kíli immediately leaps from his spot on the floor, rushing towards Fíli with a delighted expression and completely ignoring Jóli who opens his arms to receive him. It is only through years of practice that Fíli manages to keep his feet when Kíli barrels into him.

"Tell me honestly zâyunguh," Jóli sighs, turning to Dís and pulling her into a hug. "Is it my face?"

"Get off me," Dís laughs, swatting at his nose. "I'll heat you some water for a bath, but only if you stop dripping all over my floor."

Fíli smiles, watching them for a moment before turning his eyes toward the ceiling. It feels different now, having seen the sky, the trees, the river and the rain, but it feels right even if he's sick and miserable for a week.

The world doesn't seem so frightening anymore.

—

**Khuzdul:**

**akhùthuzh daruk** / evergreen

'**amad **/ mother

**azrâd** / magic

**ghivashel** / treasure of all treasures

**mim azaghâl** / little warrior

**mingalel** / the sky

**zarâm kidhuzu **/ trees of gold

**zâyunguh** / my love


End file.
